Missing Recess
by Starshadow258
Summary: The gang has entered their junior year, and is now faced with a whole new set of problems, including detention, love triangles, and even love squares! Rated for suggestive themes and mild language.


**A/N - Wow, you actually bothered to read this! Thank you! I like to think outside the box, so this isn't your standard _Recess_ scenario, though, like most of the world, I'm a pretty big fan of the whole TJ/Spinelli thing. I started writing this because (1) I need to get back in practice for school, as it right around the corner, and (2) I discovered that, thanks to my lovely Satellite and DVR, I could watch one of my favorite childhood TV shows. I've gotta say, they seemed so much better as a eight year old kid, which leads me to very much prefer my rendition of the show. And with that, I leave you to stand in awe of what I did over summer vacation. :) Enjoy!!**

Students swarmed into Third Street High School, instantly crowding the hallways and commons area. Ashley Spinelli leaned against the vending machine in the hallway, eyeing the crowd. Her almond eyes darted across the student body, swiftly searching for friends.

The first day of school was always frantic, though, so she didn't expect the task of finding her long-time pals to be at all simple. She waited silently, still scanning the group of people. Slowly, but surely nonetheless, the crowds morphed into smaller groups. She chuckled to herself as the massive cluster molded into their cliques. _Same old, same old._

Most commonly known by only her last name, Spinelli pushed a lock of black hair out of her eyes. Without a trace of her friends, she was ready to abort her search. She glanced down at the moderately wrinkled slip of paper. Who was her homeroom teacher this year?

--

TJ Detweiler moved swiftly through the thick mob of high schoolers. He had to keep moving. He'd eventually run into SOMEBODY decent, right? It's not like all of his friends had suddenly fallen ill the night before the first day of school, and conveniently forgot to tell him that he'd have to face the first day of his junior year alone, right? Right…

TJ took in a deep breath. Everything was cool. He had nothing to worry about. His friends weren't sick—no need to worry. But still… "No. You're gonna find somebody," he muttered to himself under his breath. He neared the edge of the slowly-separating crowd when he spotted a shadow in the corner near the vending machine. The figure was on the short side, with defined curves made even more noticeable with black skinny jeans and a form-fitting orange tee shirt, topped off with a black jacket and knee-high boots and an orange and red striped beanie.

The girl looked up at TJ, her almond eyes flickering with both relief and delight. A grin shot up on her face. TJ couldn't help but smile back. _Thank you!_ he shouted mentally.

--

Spinelli looked up, ready to move on to a classroom. The first thing she saw, however, was not the bland, pasty colored wall. Rather, there stood a six-foot-one junior, with tousled brown hair, a slender, muscled body clothed in a fitting plain white tee, an oversized loose, green flannel shirt, blue jeans, and DC sneakers. Spinelli grinned. She'd know that practically trademarked red cap (worn backwards, of course) anywhere.

TJ grinned back. "Hey, Spinelli," he said in his crisp, tenor voice as he moved toward her. "Nice hat," she greeted her friend back, "Thought you were finally going to get rid of it." TJ shook his head. "I could say the same thing to you, you know," he noted, eyeing the orange and red beanie. "Thanks…" Spinelli replied sarcastically, subconsciously touching a hand to her hat. "So, where's—" TJ began. Just as he began to ask, the rest of the group emerged from the mass.

Gretchen Grundler, over the years, had reached a startling five feet, eleven inches tall in just the eighth grade, and hadn't grown since. She had trimmed, shoulder length red hair, which greatly contrasted her green eyes. She waved a pale hand toward TJ and Spinelli, motioning toward her friends to follow her lead. Vince LaSalle followed Gretchen first. He had hit a towering six-one, captain of the basketball team. Other than the adolescent features that once characterized his face was now exchanged for a much more mature appearance.

Next to follow was Gus Griswald, who, since his freshman year, had grown quickly into a five-foot-ten stature, replacing his thick glasses with contacts. Mikey Blumberg was no longer the "fat kid" he was once referred to. He'd grown into his weight, and now, at six and a half feet, was just huge. He grinned, following his companions closely.

"Hey, guys!" Vince said, starting a conversation. "Hey," Spinelli and TJ replied in unison. "How was your summer?" Gretchen asked, not questioning a specific person in the group. And, so the conversation rolled along smoothly, until an obnoxious, seemingly never-ending buzzing sound blared through the speakers. There was a general moan from the student body, but, despite the teenagers' wishes, the massive student body slowly broke apart from the cliques and moved toward the different classrooms.

Gretchen, Vince, and Gus moved toward their homeroom teacher's classroom, located down sophomore hall, while Mikey, Spinelli, and TJ travelled through the junior hallway to Señora Muñez's classroom.

--

"Bring these papers home TONIGHT for _tus padres_ to sign, and bring them back to me TOMORROW, so we can get all of our work done on time."

Spinelli was hit in the back of the head with a wad of paper. She turned, ready to knock teeth out of whoever had enough guts to throw something at her. TJ pointed to the crumpled paper lying beside her feet. She shot him an irritated look, but reached down for the paper anyway.

_Does Muñez sound like a bird to you?_

Spinelli had to fight laughter. She dug around in her bag 'til she found a pencil, then wrote a reply, and tossed the note back to TJ.

_Are you kidding?! She sounds like my grandma's parrot!  
What time does homeroom end?_

TJ read the note, then replied, saying:

_Spinelli, it's only been five minutes._

He chucked it at her.

_Are you positive? TJ, I can't live like this._

Chuck.

_Haha, sorry. This is going to be a waste of a good twenty minutes._

Chuck.

_No kidding. She gave us the papers—can't we leave?_

Chuck.

_Not really… so how was your summer?_

Chuck.

_Boring, really. Got my license._

Chuck.

_I noticed. Congrats._

Chuck.

_Thanks._

Chuck.

"Ash… I mean, Spinelli, are you paying attention?"

--

TJ watched Spinelli's head shoot up. "Yeah, totally." Señora Muñez cocked an eyebrow. "What did I say last, then, _chica_?" Spinelli shrugged. "You were talking about rules… and papers… and then you yelled at me." Muñez's eyes narrowed. "No, actually, I was talking about our dress code, _chica_. Five minutes after school." "What?!" Spinelli managed to spit out. "Five minutes? That's not fair! Are you serious? Come _on_! It's the same thing every year! No one follows the dress code, anyway!"

"She's right, Mrs. Muñez, she knows—" TJ began. He wasn't about to let his friend get yelled at like that for something so petty, especially when it was the first day of school. "That's Señora to you, Detweiler." "But—" "I want QUIET from you!" "That's not fair!" Spinelli protested, "He's not doing anything wrong!" "_Silencia!_" Señora Muñez shrieked. She started babbling in Spanish frantically, flailing her pointer finger between Spinelli and TJ. Her caramel face slowly grew to a pink color, then to red. "DETENCIÓN, LOS DOS!" TJ shot a glanced at Spinelli. He'd chosen to take German for his foreign language, but he knew how to count in Spanish in his very, very early days thanks to Dora the Explorer, and, given the circumstances and the eerie proximity between some Spanish and English words, he assumed that he had detention with Spinelli.

--

"DETENCIÓN, LOS DOS!" the teacher yelled. What a way to start a year. Spinelli wasn't stupid. She knew what that phrase meant. Her first lunch of the year was going to be spent with Muñez and TJ.

"Shit."

**Reviews, please! Let me know if I should continue with my summer vacation project. Even if you say that you hate the story and I should never write again, every review counts.**


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